


The Art of Subterfuge

by Darksknight



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fake Relationship, Fic Exchange, M/M, Turned Real, get together fic pretending to be espionage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 04:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15656232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksknight/pseuds/Darksknight
Summary: The thing about the ‘date’ was that it was exactly like every other lunch he’d had with Garak, ever.





	The Art of Subterfuge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jigen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jigen/gifts).



> I'm sorry this is so short, Everett, but I hope you like it regardless! Decided to try my hand at my first Julian/Garak. I think I will come back and re-do this late so that it's longer and has more content, in general. I hope you like it!

 

The idea is a simple one, if not a dangerous one. When it comes to Garak, everything is dangerous, and Julian has learned to appreciate that, in a way. It’s never dull—that’s for certain; wether they’re arguing over lunch or in the midsts of some take-over plot brewing in the middle of the station, there’s never a moment in between that Julian would describe as boring. 

“Really, you’re going about this whole thing the wrong way,” Garak says. He’s working on some sort of Bajoran stew, which he very clearly dislikes, but is seemingly determined to finish. “Subterfuge, my dear doctor, is an art, not a con.”

“Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten? I’m sure that taught us that in medical school, just the same as they taught you in your tailoring classes.” Julian gives Garak a keen look, hoping it will get Garak to smile. Somehow, it does. “Remind me again where exactly you learned the delicacies of… what was it you called it? The _art_ of subterfuge?”

“I believe that’s how I put it, yes. The question you should be asking yourself, Doctor, is where you could have possibly learned that it was anything but an art. After all, you’d call your application of—of medicines, and the like, a medical practice, would you not? You’re certainly not _conning_ those viruses out of your patients systems. You’re simply… how to put it? Ah, yes. You’re simply following a formula.”

“A formula.”

“Yes. A plus B equals C, I’m sure you understand.”

“So this… art, then, is nothing more than that?”

“But of course. You apply a certain medicine to the issue, and based on the body you use it on, and the arrangement of cells, the composition of the person, it will have a certain outcome. It’s your job to understand what bodies will react with which treatments for the desired outcome.”

“Garak,” Julian laughed, “Are you trying to convince me that _lying_ and _medicine_ are one in the same?”

“Well they’re both awfully fun, wouldn’t you say?”

“Don’t think I don’t notice your re-direction.”

Garak smirked. He never seemed to smile, not really; his mouth pulled up, but there was always something smug about it, something cunning. Julian liked that about Garak quite a lot, but he wondered, sometimes, if Garak was privately laughing at him. If so, he’d made his peace with it—he was content to let Garak have his laugh if it meant their lunches never came to an end.

Speaking of.

“Damn,” Julian caught the time on his comm unit and stood, hastily, cringing when he noticed that he’d barely touched his food. The problem with having lunch with Garak was that, often times, it resulted in him eating very little, thanks to their talking. The only times he came away with a clean plate where when Garak went into monologs about the great ‘mystery’ writers of Cardassia; guilty, guilty, guilty, how did they prove that the suspect was guilty…

“I take it your lunch break is over?”

“Five minutes past, in fact.” Julian made an apologetic face. “I’m afraid we’ll have to pick this up later. Next week, same time?”

“Actually, Doctor,” Garak stood, untucking the napkin from the front of his shirt and dropping it onto the table. “Perhaps I might come by your quarters later tonight. I’ve just finished that program you loaned me, and if you’re amenable, I’d like to discuss it with you.”

“The whole London mission?” Julian asked in surprise. “That took me weeks.”

“Yes, well, it does speed the story progression up quite a bit when you turn on your handlers..”

“Of course it does,” Julian sighed. “Tonight then, say, nineteen hundred hours?”

“It would be delighted.” 

 

—

 

Garak did not come over to discuss the London Bond mission. The moment Julian opened the door to the tailor, he admitted himself in and began to scan the room with a tricorder, looking altogether too pleasant. 

Julian scowled and locked the door. “What’s this about?”

“Why aren’t you happy to see me? I’m quite certain you were looking forward to our little entourage earlier today.” He moved directly into Julian’s bedroom. 

“E-excuse me!” Julian realized he’d left Kukalaka out in the open and felt his face heat. “Garak, what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re not on Earth, doctor mine.” He came sweeping out of the bedroom, tricorder still in hand. “Well, I suppose I’m satisfied with the bare minimum in this case.”

“Will you _please_ tell me what’s going on?” Julian put his hands on his hips, staring Garak down. “Or would you like to investigate my closet as well?”

“Another times, perhaps,” Garak said. He put the tricorder down on the coffee table and then folded himself neatly onto the couch. “I’m afraid we have a rather… _delicate_ issue on our hands.”

“We?”

“Well yes, you _are_ my paramour, after all, my issues are your issues are my issues, as the saying goes.”

Julian swallowed. He’d had a crush—well, admittedly a great deal more than a crush—on Garak that had been growing since they’d first met. He’d hoped, secretly, that one day their relationship would evolve into something real, but he’d never hope to imagine he was already there. Had he missed some sort of social cue? Was this just how Cardassians courted? How long, exactly, had Garak considered them an item?

Then he caught the look on Garak’s face. The man was waiting, patiently, for him to get something. The problem was, Julian wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was supposed to be getting. Was this some sort of joke? Surely not—Garak’s joke could be cruel, but they were always clever. There was nothing clever about making fun of Julian’s feelings. 

He’d said that they had a delicate issue on their hands. 

And then, directly after that, he’d simply stated that Julian was his paramour. 

This was a cover, Julian realized. “Ah.” He sat, carefully, next to Garak. “Yes, of course. And, uh, what is this issue we have then, my… dear?”

Garak grinned wide—delighted that Julian had caught on. Julian felt his stomach drop and wondered when, exactly, Garak was finally going to do something so outrageous it killed Julian with a swift heart attack. 

“It’s the shop,” Garak sighed, dramatically. “You’ll remember that I wasn’t the first one to set up there. The old tenant wants his space back, and I’m afraid he’s being rather nasty about it. I’d go directly to Sisko, of course, but that wouldn’t be very sporting of me. Just think of what he might do if he found out I tattled on him.”

Julian committed every word to memory, sure it was some sort of allusion to something going on behind the scenes. “And what do you want me to do about it? Go to Sisko for you?”

“Well if _you_ allowed something to slip, I’m sure that the old tenant would never know. He’ll be keeping his eye on me, I’m sure, but you? My poor, deluded conquest? I couldn’t imagine he’d suspect a thing.”

Julian nodded, slowly. “I… see.”

“Well, my dear, I really must be going now, I have several dresses that are in dire need of a refit and I’ll be needing to draw up their plans tonight. I’ll see you at my qaurters for the usual date time, tomorrow night, won’t I?”

“Yes,” Julian said, slowly. “Twenty-one hundred, as usual?”

“Wonderful. We’ll have dinner. And while we’re on the subject, perhaps I might take you for a date tomorrow. I’m sure a stroll about the promenade would do us both good.”

“I’m sure.”

Garak smiled. “Excellent. I will see you then, my dear.” 

And with that, he was gone.

Julian stared at the door as it closed after Garak, both baffled and a little bit excited. There was something going on that Garak wanted Sisko to know about, and that was… fine, he supposed, they would figure that out. But the fact that Garak had decided that Julian would be his fake-lover as their cover up for meeting and the like was… something, to say the least. 

What should he tell the Captain? And was he supposed to let anyone else in on the bit? Surely Garak didn’t think he’d keep the fact that they weren’t actually together from Miles, or from Jadzia for that matter. 

What was he supposed to wear for a stroll about the promenade, anyway?

It wasn’t like he had a choice, he supposed—he would be in his uniform that time of day, like usual, but then what about his trip to Garak’s quarters? Not that it mattered, it was all fake. But would Garak judge him if he didn’t put effort into it? He’d called subterfuge an art, just that afternoon, and Julian was sure that the tailor wouldn’t appreciate a lazy artist.

A date. He had a date with Garak.

 

—

 

The thing about the ‘date’ was that it was exactly like every other lunch he’d had with Garak, ever. He tried to be flirty, but realize he was always flirty with Garak. He often times had his hand on Garak’s arm as they walked, and other than the slightly-closer-than-usual proximity, there was nothing strange about their stroll about the promenade. 

“You know,” Julian stopped Garak mid-tirade. “I don’t think you’ve been using my holoprograms at all.”

Garak opened his mouth. He closed it. He blinked. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I’ve just been thinking about something you said a couple days ago. About the London mission.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t _have_ a handler that mission.”

“That’s what you think. Don’t you know that they’re always controlling you just beyond the shadows?” Garak smiled at him, playfully. “You just have to seek them out.”

“Maybe in real life, but in my programs?”

“Tell me, Doctor, why would I lie about such a thing?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Julian wondered. 

“You’re catching on, my dear.” Garak sounded delighted by the fact. “Tell me, have you finished the London mission yourself? I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t been spending nearly as much time with your programs as of late.”

“Everyone keeps interrupting them,” Julian grumbled. 

“I think you _like_ the interruptions.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be good at reading people.”

“Ah, yes, well. I do suppose it would be a pity when you’re mid-seduction and the constable manages to ruin the moment.” 

“I was talking about _you_.”

“Me? Why whatever did I do?”

“Garak, you manage to barge in on me any time I’m in the process of seducing anyone.”

“Especially the villains,” Garak agreed. “Someone’s got to keep that boyish quality to your smile, wouldn’t you say?”

“I think you might have been the one to say that it’s not so boyish anymore.”

“And weren’t you the one who forbade me from brining up your age in any sort of context? I believe this may qualify.” He laughed as Julian scowled. “Don’t worry, dear, you age with such grace.”

“I believe this may be verging into the territory of brining up my age, Garak.”

“Is it? I thought it was rather charming.”

“Charming? You?”

“Could I be anything but?”

Julian couldn’t help but smile then, ducking his head to hide the expression. “No,” he said, “I suppose not.”

“Speaking of charming, is that man’s hairstyle not just lovely?” Garak nodded at a human man standing just down the way. “Something off about his ears, though, I do believe he’s had work done.”

“Hm? His hair’s fine,” Julian shrugged.

“Just fine? Take a closer look, you’ll see it’s really quite in.”

Julian looked over at the man again. Alarm bells started going off in his head— _this_ was the part where Garak started in on the plot of it all. So now he’d identified one of the suspects in… what was it that he’d said? Someone taking back his shop. A take-over plan for DS9, then? And he’d said the old tenant. Usually that would have made Julian believe that this had something to do with Cardassia, or Gul Dukat, but in this case, perhaps he meant the Order. 

And the note about the man having had work done on his ears. 

“A Romulan cut, if I recall,” Garak continued. “From the southern providence. I’ve seen a few examples of it these past few days, it must be catching.”

Ah. They were in trouble, then. 

 

—

 

Julian met Garak in the Cardassian’s man quarters later that night for a few glasses of liquor, a surprisingly well-prepared dinner and subsequent dessert, and two-hour long argument. (Over what, Julian couldn’t recall.) , They then sat in Garak’s bedroom reading while Garak blasted some sort of Cardassian music. It was strange, even for them, but Garak assured him it was all rather romantic, and after another Garak ruffled Julian’s hair sufficiently, he slipped a datastick into the Doctor’s sleeve and sent him on his way.

It was, by far, the best date Julian had ever had.

 

—

 

Julian was just coming out of the Captain’s office when Jadzia intercepted him. She had that gleam in her eye that was often telling of coming mischief. Julian braced himself as Jadzia drew him aside with a hand on his upper arm, smile coy and waiting.

“Julian,” she sighed, shaking her head. Her smile didn’t disappear. “I think you should know I’m very disappointed in you.”

Usually, those words would have made him sick to his stomach, but her smile told him she was only playing. “And how have I let you down this time, Jadzia?”

“Please. You slept with Garak and then didn’t immediately tell me about it? I’m crushed.” She laughed at his wide-eyed expression. “Oh, come on. You must have known I’d find out. News travels fast on space stations.”

“Very fast,” he agreed, numbly.

“So? How was it? Do you think you’ll stay together? I know you’re a hopeless romantic but how does Garak feel about dating? You’ve practically been dating since you met, anyway, I suppose.”

“I. What?”

“Don’t hold out on me, Julian. I’ve never been with a Cardassian before; none of my previous hosts have. I want all the juicy details.”

“Ah. Oh. Yes, that. Well.” He cleared his throat. “It was… good.”

She raised her brows. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“Good? That’s it?”

Julian could have bashed his head into the nearest computer console. “Fantastic!” He tried again, forcing some enthusiasm into the words. “I’m sorry, you just took me by surprise is all. It was… it was really, really good.” He didn’t want to tarnish Garak’s reputation. 

Jadzia bit her lip, smile stretching wider. “Julian, that’s great!” 

“You’re… not concerned, then?”

“Concerned?”

“About my fraternizing with a known spy.”

“Julian, you’ve been fraternizing with him for years. Why would I be worried now? And besides,” she winked, “He’s just the station’s tailor, right?”

“Yes… just plain, simple Garak,” Julian rolled his eyes. Garak was just about the most dramatic, most obvious, most over-the-top person Julian had ever met. He _wanted_ people to know he wasn’t just an every day tailor, and it showed. He may as well have put up a huge banner that said “SUSPICIOUS LIZARD” in front of his shop, for all the hiding he was doing. 

“I’m busy right now, and I will be most of the week—I’m down in the lab. But if you want to drop by and… read me some reports, at some point, I won’t complain.” 

Julian sighed. “Yes. I’ll see if I can do that.”

“You’re a gem, Julian.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Tell Garak I say hi,” she said, and then was on her way, hands linked neatly behind her back, poised and keen as a Qo’noS _doq_ hawk. 

Julian wondered how long it would be before Miles was on his case about his supposed relationship with Garak. Or worse, Worf, who wouldn’t see things the same way as his wife. He suddenly knew why Garak had chosen this particular cover, over any other. It was most likely for the simple glee of watching Julian suffered. 

Julian was going to kill him.

 

—

It was not Miles or Worf who next confronted Julian. To his great surprise, it was Odo, who slipped into medical about five minutes before Julian was due for his lunch break. 

“Constable,” Julian greeted him. “What can I do for you?”

“Doctor, you know I am not very good at any sort of pretense,” he started, which was never a good sign. “So I’ll tell you why I’m here. I’ve heard rumors of your relationship with Mr. Garak.”

Julian sighed. “Odo, I can assure you, I’m not a security risk.”

“Did I say you were?” Odo always sounded grumpy when he asked questions. “I wanted to ask what your intentions are.”

“My… intentions?”

“Towards Mr. Garak,” Odo said. “Seeing as the two of you have been having lunch on average of twice a week, for well over two years now, I can’t assume this was a simple tryst.” 

“Oh. Well. I don’t know.” Julian shrugged, uncomfortable. “Maybe?”

Odo turned to him, eyes sharp. “Doctor Bashir, I have no business investigating your love life, or Mr. Garak’s, but I’ve made it my duty nonetheless. Let me ask you this—can you say you think Mr. Garak has been happy, here, on the station?”

Julian had no idea where any of this was going. Still, he thought back to the implant he’d had to remove from Garak’s cranium. Garak, saying that every waking minute on the station was agony for him. “I… I’m not sure.”

“I would garner that he has not been overly happy,” Odo said. He inspected a line of antique medicines displayed above Julian’s work space. “Frankly, Doctor, I would say Mr. Garak has suffered enough in his life time.”

“I’m… not sure what you’re saying.”

Odo turned smartly on his heel to stare Julian down. “If you’re intending on finding a brief source of fun in a man who has very little joy left to give, I ask that you reconsider. Mr. Garak has very little in the way of well-wishers, so do your best to make yourself one of them, won’t you?”

“Odo,” Julian spluttered out a sharp laugh, disbelieving. “Garak and I are friends.”

“See that you keep that connection,” Odo said. “Good day, Doctor.”

He turned and marched out of medbay without another word, the doors swishing closed soundlessly behind him. Julian stared after him, baffled. 

Had… Odo just given him the “don’t break Garak’s heart” speech? 

He needed to lie down.

 

—

 

Julian was just getting ready to sit down for dinner when Garak commed him. 

_Garak: fancy a late night stroll, Doctor dear?_

Julian sighed. He’d delivered the datastick to Siscko and told him about the Romulans in likely connection to the Order, what else could Garak want out of him? Still, he zipped the top half of his uniform back up and sent a reply:

_Omw._

To which Garak responded: _how is it that you can be so deliciously articulate when speaking, and so dreadfully short-handed when we message?_

Julian grinned. He sent back a short _idk._

_Garak: You’ve giving me terrible flashbacks to my days perusing StarMatch. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how horrifyingly slim the pickings are out here._

_Me: just bc you couldnt get a date on space grinder doesnt mean i have to suffer for it_

_Garak: You can only see Qaurk’s “proposition for acquisition” so many times before you begin to feel as if you are going mad, doctor._

Julian shuddered. He couldn’t even begin to imagine. 

He stepped out onto the promenade and headed for Garak’s shop, smiling when he saw Garak emerge from within. The man had a hurried gate, but he smiled pleasantly, and when he met Julian he drew the doctor’s hand into the crook of his elbow and kept it there, scaled fingers laying gently atop Julian’s. 

They began to walk. 

“Couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see me? Garak, I believe you’re becoming smitten. I thought you were better than that.”

“Believe me, my dear, the fault lays entirely in those lovely hazel eyes of yours.”

Julian rolled said eyes. “Of course it is.”

“Come, come, we can watch the wormhole. There should be a ship coming through soon.”  
“How romantic,” Julian drawled. 

“The Bajorans say nothing is more romantic, truly. Looking directly into the gates of heaven with the one you hold most dear.”

“And here I thought you only wanted me for my body.”

“Not _only_ that, my dear,” he grinned. 

They had a pleasant stroll to the viewport. Julian told Garak about his day, minus Odo and Jadzia, and Garak chuckled beneath his breath from time to time so show he was listening, though his eyes did not often leave Julian’s face. 

Julian leaned against the transparent aluminum of the viewport, tilting his head to watch for the wormhole. Garak said, “Hm, it seems we’re being followed,” under his breath, right next to Julian’s ear, but he didn’t sound concerned. 

“Lovely,” Garak said, louder. “Don’t you agree?”

Julian let out a snort. “It hasn’t even opened up yet.” 

“My dear Doctor,” Garak said, softly. “I wasn’t talking about the wormhole.”

Julian furrowed his brow in confusion for a mere second before Garak closed the distance between them—slowly, in asking, waiting for Julian to meet him in the middle. Julian felt Garak sigh on his lips and moved forward, just barely, meshing their mouths together. 

His life lit up in glorious color as heat pooled in his stomach. He felt as though he’d been waiting for this, for eons, forever—ever since he’d met Garak. Perhaps, at first, it was that Garak was handsome and exciting; a spy, just like the holos he loved to play. But then it had become something more, with their lunches and their arguments, with Garak’s quiet solidarity and fearsome protection. 

He melted into Garak’s hands, sighing into the other man’s mouth.

Garak pulled back, just barely. “That’s the ship,” he said. “Take a look, dear doctor.”

Julian looked, and blinked, wondering why it was important. He remember why they were there, then, and what he was doing. This was espionage, and Garak was kissing him under cover.

It was a Romulan ship. He committed the serial number on the bow to memory, for a report to Sisko. He turned back to Garak, to let him know that he understood—with a short nod, or something, but the look in his eye must have given him away.

Garak smiled, gently. “It’s all true, you know.”

“What?”

“Everything I’ve ever told you.”

Julian furrowed his brow. They’d had a similar exchange before. Confused, he repeated what he’d said then; “Even the lies?”

Garak smiled in delight. “Especially the lies,” he said, and moved forward to kiss Julian again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work, consider following K. Anderson Books on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/kandersonbooks/) and [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/kandersonbooks/) for more content! 


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